


The House in the Country.

by LittleBluejay_SingingSongs



Category: Hannibal - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: F/M, February 2021 story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:40:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 15,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29197734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBluejay_SingingSongs/pseuds/LittleBluejay_SingingSongs
Summary: A normal life in the country.The Lecter family moves in across the road.Dinner.A death in the family.A proposal.Another death and another proposal.A trip.
Relationships: Gerald and his wife, Mr. And Mrs. Lecter
Kudos: 6





	1. A normal life in a quiet area of the hills.

Her life had everything she needed. Or could want.

On Sunday she roasted a chicken. On Tuesday she served bits of the meat with rice. On Wednesday it was broth with diced vegetables added to the remainder of the chicken. The pie from Sunday sometimes lasted until Wednesday or even once when it didn’t come out so good, it still hung around looking dejected on Thursday. Friday morning she took it outside and dumped it on the fields.

She used to cook for four, then her eldest married, so five, then the baby made six, then they moved, (three to four days away by camper!), because of a new job and she was back down to three. They talked once a month, or less on some random day of the week.

Her youngest married, unfortunately to a somewhat disliked spouse and with no children, there was no reason to visit more than once a year. Even though they moved only an hour and a half away. They talked once a week, every Sunday after church as they waited for dinner to bake, despite the fact that they usually saw each other earlier in church.

They visited the kids once a year, usually for Easter, usually held at the eldest child’s home. The youngest’s spouse complained every year! The grandchild was now ten. Still cute.

Her husband’s, (three generations!) family farmhouse, three stories tall, because all farmers went up than out, since the land was used for growing either plants or animals, usually both, well, technically it was two stories and an attic large enough for storage and a bedroom, with a basement, was well known to the area. Only in the heat of summer would anyone consider sleeping in the basement. The flooring and the basements walls were stacked rocks. She often wished they’d done a better job of lining up the rocks and used less mortar. Or was it cement? They couldn’t have done too bad a job, since the rest of the house was balanced on those rock walls. Several foot and a half wide tree trunks had been split in half, placed on the rock walls to make the base for the flooring above it. The floors all creaked.

Her husband, Gerald, loved her and she loved him.


	2. The house across the way.

She walked around the empty house one time too many and ended up in the attic, again, sitting on the side of a cot, looking out the window over the tops of sixty? Seventy? A hundred? Year old pine trees. She had no idea how old they were. They were pretty, especially in the setting sunlight. The land sloped away on a long plain. Twenty miles away the land rose in a gentle rise. There were always animals drifting around out there, usually they were too far away and were like flecks of pepper floating on broth.

Downstairs she watched TV. Then turned it off and watched the house across the road. A truck with a gardener’ business logo pulled in and parked out front.

The dirt road out front had been paved a decade ago. Shortly afterwards the ramshackle farmhouse across the way was torn down and a oversized McMansion was built. The people who bought it were complete city folk. She wasn’t sad when they went broke and the bank foreclosed on the property. It sat empty for the next year. Or two? At least two winters. The only remnant of the previous owner was the citified style of landscaping and the awesome walls completely surrounding the two hundred acre property. Without constant care the roses went wild and the cone shaped evergreen shrubs looked misshapen.

At dinner she remarked to Gerald, “Every so often someone shows up and does something to the property. This time it was a gardener.”

Gerald finished his pie before he replied. “Good meal, momma.” His eyes twinkled.

“Thank you.” She replied with her own mischievous smile.

“Guess we’ll be hearing power tools for the next spell. Do you want to visit your sister for a while? Or one of the kids?”

“Lord, no. I’m fine right where I am.”

He picked up his plate, “Okay. Your choice.” He smiled at her and took his plate and glass into the kitchen. She watched him head down to the basement. Where he did his own tinkering, while she washed up the dishes.

It took the gardener more than a week to get the place looking spiffy and then it rained. The thunderstorm seemed to park right above the area and dumped more than the land could hold. A river filled the ditches, flowed over the road and followed it down to the distant valley. Most of the ditches were three meters deep.

Gerald grabbed his lunch and a face mask, that she had made for everyone in the family, kissed her good bye and remarked, “Thunderstorm is better than snow or an ice storm.”

Snow, well, snow snowed you in. The snow plows did the cities before they ever came up here. Ice storms usually brought down power lines, shut down roads and really messed up the area.

She watched Gerald pull out in the truck as she cleaned up the kitchen, before heading up to the attic. She watched the trees lashing about in the winds. Quite a few branches had come down. She checked the other window and was surprised to see a couple of workmen’s trucks parked on the side of the McMansion.


	3. Sunday morning.

The weather cleared up over the weekend and everyone went to church. Gerald’s family attended the early service. They both were a little tired of the children fussing during the late service. Also, the number of attendees was low enough that everyone already sat with lots of space around them, even before COVID came to town. The minister took off his mask during the sermon. It wasn’t a problem. The closest parishioners were in the fifth row or so, a good twenty feet away, so, seven meters? He no longer cajoled everyone to move closer.

Gerald liked the service and looked forward to the two minutes spent with the pastor on the way out. Since they no longer shook hands the exchanged looks seemed to count more.

The wives made the rounds with each other in the parking lot. It was warm, only if you stood in the sunshine. They no longer gathered in little groups, now they stood in rough circles. Usually more than six feet apart, so two meters? Learning to use metric was driving Sharon nuts.

A light snow drifted down on the way home. “Mrs. Alexander says somebody bought the McMansion.”

Gerald thought for a time, while he watched his driving. “Does that mean anything to us?”

“Mrs. Alexander, Marie, thinks we might be getting a phone call from Mrs. Jones.”

“Mrs. Jones.”

“She’s the one with all the kids. Her neighbor.” Gerald gave no reaction. “Her husband’s the deacon at the Catholic Church.” George took a deep breath and exhaled. She thought a moment trying to remember the man’s title. “He’s also the lieutenant governor? Or something.”

“Is he? Right. I forgot.” The roof of the McMansion came into view as they rounded the stand. “Why do you say ‘all those kids’? They have four. Isn’t that right? Four.”

“Yes. Four.”

“And why would she call us?”

“To find out if we’ve met our new neighbors.”

“Why?” The question hung there as they espied the moving van. “Oh.”

“She moves fast. Jones had to have talked to Marie in time to deliver the message to me. And she must know we attend the early service. That moving van was _not_ here there yesterday. Maybe the gardener or the workmen, somehow know Mrs. Jones? Then again, maybe the husbands know each other from work?”

Gerald parked. They went inside, put their things away and she started dinner. Gerald hung around and ended up following her around, helping her set the table. She studied the table, decided it looked good and looked up.

Gerald smiled and in a nasal voice, a voice he’d never use in public, said, “They must be something special.” They laughed together.

“Oh, you.”


	4. Arrival.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday.

Monday morning Sharon was setting up the rice cooker. She heard a car slow to a stop out front and went to see. A Lincoln Continental, black of course, she thought, pulled in at the McMansion. Moving over to the small window in the door, she was able to see through the foliage. The driver opened the passenger door and held a woman’s hand as she got out. He did the same for the back seat and this time he lifted out a frail looking man and held him as he got his balance.

At first she thought the driver was a chauffeur, because of the suit. He held his arm around the man’s back as they shuffled to the house, following the woman. She waited at the front door. The driver made sure the man was okay, then he unlocked it and held it for her to enter. So, polite, this guy. Eventually the two men made it in and the door slowly shut.

She checked back on her rice and dumped the water, and rinsed it again. It was good, the water was running clear. She loaded the cooker, turned it on and went back to snooping. Nothing seemed to happen. She checked her nails. They still looked good from Saturday. She looked at the tracks in the snow. First George leaving and then the Lincoln’s arrival. Few people drove up this way in the winter. She grew bored waiting and was about to head up to the attic and enjoy the snowy valley and trees, when the man came back out again. He was rather athletic. He drove around back to the garage.

On the way to the attic and most of the time she looked out the window she kept thinking about what she’d seen. The men’s suits. The woman’s hat and matching gloves. Was she wearing pearls?Her long coat was stylish, yet not staid or vulgar. The same with her slacks and heels. No red soles there. She decided she was looking at a family. By the time she left the attic, because the mail truck was coming, she’d decided the driver was the son and he was not married. He moved well. In fact he carried himself like a dancer. At that age he must be married. Or maybe he was no longer married? If he had a wife, what happened to her and did they have any children? Or were they to join them later? Or was he just delivering his parents and he’d soon be leaving? And why would the parents, if they had health problems, move way out here? Why would they move if they were that old?

She slit the envelope open. Maybe the son had children, they just hadn’t arrived yet and this is why the ladies in town were interested in meeting them. Hm.

The letter brought news of a second arrival. She left the letter in the envelope by Gerald’s empty place setting. Musing over the news as she absently set the table in Sunday’s best, white lace tablecloth and candlesticks, the clouds lowered and soon it was quite dark.

“Well.” She cleaned out her son’s bedroom and changed the sheets. She got boxes from basement and loaded up everything, taped them shut and labeled them. She was carrying them down when Gerald arrived. He helped her take them into the basement with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

“Monday. Smells good. Chicken and rice?”

“Yes.”

“Finally emptying out the children’s rooms?” He asked as they washed up. His eyebrows jumped up and he gave no voice to the question at seeing the dining room.

She lit the candles. “It’s getting dark early.”

“Rain or snow. One or the other.”

She grinned back at him, when he saw the letter. They ate most of their meal before he opened the letter and read it aloud. “Dear Uncle Gerald and Aunt Tootie. What?”

“Your nephew. It’s from that Tom Cruz movie. I had him watch Risky Business when he was here. I told the three of them,” she waved at their children who weren’t there, “children grow up and they always get themselves involved in something. And I think it is good. It’s good for kids to do things and then have to work themselves out of the situation.” She paused remembering that day. “His calling me Tootie means he needs help with something.”

“Or he’s worked out a solution. Why isn’t he writing his own father? And a letter? If he needs help, wouldn’t he call?”

“Maybe he’s already spoken to him.”

He continued reading. “I hope you are both well. This COVID virus seems to invade or outright occupy every conversation.” Gerald smiled and shook his head, “Did you also teach him letter writing?”

“I don’t recall.”

“I am hopeful that you might extend to me an invitation to visit.” Gerald set the letter down. “Really? He writes like, like.”

She interjected, “Like he wrote it several times before he finally reached what he wanted to say.” She finished and began to clear the table.

“Extend to me an invitation. He could have just said, “Hi. Can I come visit?””

From the kitchen came, “Could have.”

The Lincoln pulled out. Gerald looked over at it and went back to the letter. “We apparently have neighbors. Hmm, hm, hmmm. Well, it’s okay with me. He’s a nice enough kid.” He folded the letter back in the envelope. “He didn’t say when he’d be here.”

Sharon came back and retrieved the rest of the dishes. “Oh. Hmm. Well, if he sent it as he was leaving, he might be here any time.” She dithered with the dishes in her hands. “I should go up and open the vents in that room and heat it up.”

He looked away.

“It takes time, a day or two to heat the objects in the room. Like the bed.”

“Okay. I didn’t say anything.”

“Okay.” She cleaned up in the kitchen and returned to fold the tablecloth.

“I opened the vent and I think I’m taking my bath early.”

“Okay. I’ll follow you in.”

They retired early and snuggled in bed as they read.


	5. Shopping and snow.

The Lincoln Continental headed to the grocery store. The driver donned his mask, a rather spiffy black number, before he entered. The cashier immediately intoned, rather urgently, “We close in fifteen minutes.”

He nodded in response and looked around. One customer was leaving and a second waited for their two bottles of wine, and a frozen pizza to be rung up.

He quickly reached a decision. “Is the manager here?” The customer, cashier, bagger, and a skinny kid in a yellow striped vest all looked surprised. The manager came quickly over.

“Can I help you?” They did not stand straight on to him, but sidled up beside him, as if they were both perusing the layout of the building, yet she kept her eyes on him. He noticed her name was Janet.

Speaking loud enough for everyone to hear he said, “Janet. We just moved here. We have nothing to eat in the house and it looks like a storm is coming in. We don’t even have a box of salt.” He let that sink in. The cashier finished the last customer. The bagger bagged them. The kid in yellow scratched his head and twirled away. The manager’s face now wore a big smile of surprise.

“My parents are elderly. Can you help me? We need everything and you know where everything is. Can you take a couple of carts and start collecting.”

“My lord.” Exclaimed the customer, “I’ll help you. Just let me get these in my trunk. Sure thing.” And he raced out.

“Thank you.”

The manager took over for the cashier, “Okay you three, she checked the clock, see what you can do to help him.”

“Thank you.”

“What do you want?” They listened avidly.

The kid who returned carts smiled and laughed, “This is like one of those game shows.”

“I need everything. Salt, pepper, spices, sugar, flour, coffee, tea.”

The bagger said, “So, baking. On it.” He raced away with a cart.

“French roast!”

“Okay.” Floated back to them.

“Okay. Milk, cream, butter, maybe two of those, cooking oil and soap, and paper towels, and something. A good olive oil. Bread, maybe two of those.”

“I got ya.” The cashier zipped away.

“I need all kinds of meats. So, beef, pork, chicken, eggs, any large whole fish, hopefully fresh?”

“The good stuff.”

“Yes.”

“I can do that.” He grabbed a cart and not surprisingly was the fastest one as he ran the cart neatly around the aisle’s corner.

The customer had returned, “Anything I can do to help?”

“That’s kind of you. Let’s see. We have water from the tap.”

“Nothing else?” He asked incredulously.

“Nothing. Maybe you can find some wine, beer.”

“Imported?”

“Yes, please. Maybe a champagne or two?”

The bagger returned with more than what was on the list. The man looked over the items as the bagger unloaded them onto the checkout counter.The manager looked pensive. “I’ll take all of it. Please start ringing it up. Chocolate, excellent. Oh. I forgot nuts.”

“Right here. I threw in a bag of walnuts and cinnamon.”

The manager was rapidly scanning as fast as the bagger tossed things on the counter. “Do you have anything in case of an emergency?”

“Hm.”

The manager still looked pensive, and asked. “Do you have a first aid kit, or aspirin?”

“Oh, goodness. No.”

The bagger shoved the cart out of the walkway between the checkouts and sped off for the pharmacy.

The cashier returned, “I have oatmeal and buns, also.”

“Good job. Thank you.”

The cashier started bagging. The customer returned with a cartfull of juggling bottles. “Well done. Thank you for your help. We’re not supposed to shake hands, but thank you.”

“Thanks, glad to help. I’m Jeff Macklin.” They both looked toward the door with the snow now coming down in big, soft, fluffy flakes. He checked the time. Five after closing.

“Good to meet you.” Jeff left. “Janet. I think we are past closing time. I’ll move my car right up next to the door.”

“Okay.”

Outside the wind had died. The few steps to the Lincoln had a layer of white on his head and shoulders. He moved the car with the trunk facing the door. He popped the trunk. Yellow vest said, “I think she’s ready for you to pay.”

“Did you want this included?” Janet held up a bottle of Moët & Chandon, a second one waited on the counter. “Just because he included it doesn’t mean you have to buy it.”

“Wonderful. Yes, please.”

Judging from his clothes, the car, and the Moët, Janet was not surprised he paid cash. They loaded his trunk. He thanked them and drove into the snowy night.


	6. Another arrival.

The snow was easy to drive in, in town. Once he was in the countryside it was mesmerizing and blinding. The headlights barely showed the edges of the road. He slowed on the turn around the stand of trees and crept, looking for the property’s wall to end at the driveway. Car lights from behind suddenly blinded him in the rear view mirror. He accelerated and braced for the impact when the lights were beside him. The car next to him neatly slid into the ditch and with a floom sound from the snow was buried on it’s side.

He pulled into the driveway, thought it over and continued to the garage. Inside he looked for anything to help him dig out the car. Not finding a shovel or a ladder he grabbed what he did find. A shop broom. He drove the car back and used it to light up the ditch. The snow was rapidly covering the car in a soft marshmallow shape. The lights and engine were off. He called out, “Hello.” He used the broom the smash down snow between the car and the ditch. It wouldn’t do to become wedged between the two and not make it out himself. He called, “Hello” again.

He swung the broom over the side of the marshmallow, but the bristles did nothing. He rotated it and used the wood side and bashed at the snow. How was the snow this deep so fast? He swung a couple more times trying to uncover the side windows and cracked the passenger, a man, in the head. Surprised, he dropped the broom and tried to dead lift the limp body by the shoulders. The heat from inside the car wafted up, which explained why the man wasn’t wearing a coat. He got his butt up on the edge of the door, then lifted his arms up and around his shoulders. Slowly he maneuvered the two of them onto the road and into the Lincoln. He checked. The guy was breathing.

He drove back to the garage and tried to wake the man. He check his hair and found blood. What a dumb mistake. From the trunk he carried two bags to the back door and unlocked it. Inside he raced upstairs, found a mover’s box, took out a bunch of bedding and returned to the man and wrapped a blanket around him, and carried him inside.

He laid him on the sofa. Still breathing. Not dead. That’s good. He arranged the blanket. Oh, we have a first aid kit. In the trunk.

He unloaded the trunk and shut the garage door. And left the drifted snow to melt where it was. If only there was a shop broom. He rapidly unwrapped the plastic bags, and found the kit. He didn’t have anything. Bowls were packed, towels were packed, so what? He used a length of gauze to wash out the wound and several plastic bags to keep from dripping water on the floor.Hair was in the way of using iodine on the wound. He had his razor upstairs in one of the boxes.

For the first time he felt like swearing. Better to cut the hair and bandage him up while he was out. So, that’s what he did. The only addition to the procedure was to open a bottle of white wine and used it on the straight razor, then he shaved, cleaned and bandaged the wound.

The guy felt cold. The room was cold. What was he going to do? Sleep with the guy? Like in a movie? He checked the fireplace. The wood beside it was decor. It burned gas. He lit it then moved the sofa closer. Bringing down the box of bedding he made a bed for himself next to the sleeping man and tried to wake him again.

His eyes slowly opened and he looked at him, blinked, then the fire, blinked and back again.

“Hello.”

“Hiya. I’m really tired.”

He held up two fingers, “How many fingers do you see?”

Instead of answering he reached out took the hand and kissed the back of it, saying, “Okay.” And he was out again.

As he drifted asleep, vacantly looking at the fire and wondering who was this man, the thought that maybe there might be a second person in the car, woke him up.


	7. Meeting the Lecter’s

He couldn’t let it go. The thought that someone might be hurt and unconscious or awake and unable to get out, and finding they are now alone in the vehicle and they might be calling for help all night. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He spent an hour or more unpacking clothes, dressed up warm, dumpster dived toward the car and reached the window. This time he was prepared with a warm knit hat, serious gloves and boots, a flashlight, a bottle of water and his phone. He looked around in the car and with relief found it empty. Laying on the passenger door was a pile of debris. A phone and wallet were among food wrappers, empty cans, various coins and papers. The debate to retrieve the wallet and phone, because getting in and out again was going to be difficult, won. He cracked his head and shin before climbing the steering wheel and the seat’s headrest up and out into the continually falling snow.

Inside he put his wet things in the bathroom to drip and warmed up in front of the fire. He watched the man peacefully sleeping. He needed a haircut. Unless that was his way. To wear his hair a little long. He thought of touching his hair. How embarrassed would he be if he woke? He could still feel the softness of his hair on his fingers when he’d shaved and bandaged him. The intensity as he looked at him saying, “Okay.” The okay, sounded like an agreement. But, to what exactly?

He cracked the guy in the head. What a stupid thing to do. Maybe his, “Okay” was a memory of a different conversation. That seemed likely. Wait, I have his wallet. He fetched it from his coat and looked at the name; William Graham. The address was in Louisiana. That was nowhere near here. He sat on the end of the sofa and looked up Graham. There were no listings in the area.

He looked at him again for several minutes, then padded into the kitchen. The refrigerator was plugged in and the stove worked. He unpacked boxes and put away groceries until his feet were turning to ice. It took a while to find the dial and raise the temperature in the house. Now he was tired. He tucked back into his nest and purposely avoided looking at Mr. Graham again and so missed his eyes reflecting the fire, watching him, and he slept.

William Graham woke, looked around, wondered where he was, looked at the fire for a while, still didn’t know where he was and started to doze.

Two men walked slowly down a stairs.

“Turn on the heat.”

“It’s been on for some time. It will take a day or two for the building to heat up.” They entered the room.

“At least the snow covers that eyesore across the street. It didn’t take you long to have a friend over.”

“I. Didn’t.”

“Looks like you camped in front of the fire.”

“He’s injured. I couldn’t leave him.” And I didn’t want to carry him up the stairs and into the bed.

William opened his eyes in time to see the men enter a hallway. He did not know them.

“Is there any breakfast?” The two men drifted away, their voices becoming a mumble in the distance.

Where am I? What injury? He swung his feet around and sat up. His head hurt and his shoulder throbbed again. He was on his way to his Aunt and Uncle Gerald’s and it was dark. It started snowing. He pushed on, because he was almost there. Suddenly, there was a car in front of him. Right! He ended up in a ditch. Somebody brought him in here. He still didn’t recognize the house.

He carefully stood. The scene looked like the beginning stages of moving in. There was furniture and boxes, but no curtains, pictures, rugs, or any knickknacks. He looked down. Someone did sleep next to him. With a toe he uncovered his shoes, wallet, and phone. He bent down. The pain in his head caused him to stop and hold it, feeling the bandage. He carefully sat and waited for the pain to subside and then reached down for the phone and wallet. He checked. His Police ID card was still there. The slot for his badge, still empty. He slid each of them into a pocket. As he put on one shoe, a women’s heels clattered on the stairs.

They looked at each other. She pointedly looked at the shoe waiting to be put on, “Good morning.”

And continued into the kitchen as he replied with his own, “Good Morning.”

However he came to be here, the sooner he left the better. He walked slowly to the window and studied the view of blowing snow and the dim form of a wall with a break in it. For the driveway. A few trees or shrubs in a pattern looked like shadows. He didn’t recognize the people, the house, this place and where was his car? Probably still in a ditch. He called Uncle Gerald’s number. Sharon answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Aunt Sharon.”

“William. How are you? We got your letter. Please come visit us.”

“I had hoped to arrive last night. I drove into a ditch. I’m in somebody’s house.”

“A ditch.” With her hand over the phone she said. “He drove into a ditch. Last night.” There was a pause. Will smiled and rotated a shoulder. “He’s in a house.” She paused then continued into the phone. “William. You know the old farm across from us was torn down years ago. You haven’t been here in such a long time. Well a great big thing was put up in it’s place and the thing is, well the new people arrived just yesterday.”

“They don’t have a wall around the property do they?”

“They do!”

“That must be where I am. Aunt Sharon, I would walk over, but...”

“Anything dear.”

“I don’t have a coat. Or a hat.”

“Not to worry. Gerald’s coming over with the old truck.” The truck that went to the ends of the earth and back. In it’s old age it was slow, but it wouldn’t die. “If it’s got gas he’ll be over directly. If not then it will take him a minute.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

They both hung up.

William headed for the back of the house and found the family eating in the dining room. The food smelled good and weird. Strange. “Good morning.” The parents looked at him, like he was the help, and this better be good.

The son stood and came to him, “Good morning. I’m Dr. Lecter and these are my parents. Mr. and Mrs. Lecter. How do you feel? Let me check this bandage.” Really, he knew he simply wanted to touch Mr. Graham. And so, he didn’t, partly because his father was watching.

“Thank you for taking care of me. Last night.”

“You’re welcome. Please have a seat and I’ll make you a plate.”

“I’ve called family and they’re coming for me.”

The wife spoke up, “Excuse me.” Everyone looked at her. The father returned to his meal. “We could use some help. Unpacking. If you’re looking for a job. We’d pay you, of course.”

William looked at her. The son realized his mother had made a mistake. “I hear him, now.” He turned towards the front of the house.

“I think you’ll find it’s easier if you use that door.” She pointed to the rear of the house.

The son took his arm, “Come. I’ll walk you to the door,” and led him, as if he was an invalid, to the front of the house. “She’s been a little testy this past decade. She wants grandchildren.” William turned towards him and their eyes met. “Since my wife died I am available. Mr. Graham, please call me Hannibal. I would like to check on this wound, tomorrow, if I may?”

He gave the smallest of nods, “Depends on what my Aunt and Uncle have planned.”

Hannibal saw him all the way into the truck, saying, “Hello,” to the Uncle, then he return to the house.


	8. Breakfast.

Sharon took over as she did when he was seven. Hot bath and straight to bed. She came up with a bowl of chicken broth and found him asleep. She left him the bowl. William found it the next morning and drank it cold.

He exercised his shoulder and decided his head wound though tender, it didn’t warrant a trip to the Doctor’s. Plus, who wanted to see those parents again? Dressed in yesterday’s clothes as opposed to walking around in his cousins childhood bathrobe he tried to be a welcomed guest by making the bed and taking the empty bowl downstairs.

He greeted his Aunt and Uncle with a kiss and a hug. They all sat down to a breakfast of oatmeal, bacon, OJ and blessedly coffee.

“Thank you for breakfast, Aunt Sharon.”

“You’re welcome. William. I think you’re old enough you can leave off the Aunt.”

He teased back, “You don’t want to be my dear old Auntie?”

“Heaven’s no.”

“Thank you for letting me stay with you.” He looked back and forth between them.

Gerald replied, “You’re welcome. Stay as long as you need to.”

“Thank you. I rifled your medicine cabinet. Hope you don’t mind I ate a couple of your pain killers.”

Sharon grinned, “No. Not at all. Take what you need. Oh, and Happy New Years.”

Gerald huffed, “Is it today? I forgot. Every year I forget.”

He reached into a pocket and placed a small box on the table and pushed it over towards Sharon, as she said to William. “February twelfth. This is the year of the ox.” William eyed the box and watched Sharon’s surprise at finding it. She cooed, “Gerald. It’s lovely.” She handed the small box to William. It was a little silver ox.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He stood and bent across the table and they kissed. Gerald beamed.

“You said you forgot.”

“Nope.”

She turned to their guest, “Last year it was the Rat.”

“Before that it was the Pig.”

“I liked the pig.”

“It doesn’t quite match the style of the other charms.”

“Ah.” Will loved the easy banter of his Aunt and Uncle. Sometimes, when he was little, he’d wished they had been his parents.

“We have two left, the Tiger and Rabbit.”

“The first one we did was the Dragon.”

“He’s adorable,” she cooed. “I should go online and see if I can fold an ox.”

“She’s been into origami for a long time now.”

“That sounds interesting.”

Sharon laughed and took William’s hand, “Maybe. But, I would find it more interesting to know about the people who moved in across the road.” She let go of his hand and added, “Oops.” She hurried to the kitchen and washed her hands. “Oh, la de da. We’ve not been wearing our masks.” She carried two of them back with her.

They watched William think while he ate and shared a look with each other. She fitted the mask over her ears.

“I said good morning to them. Other than that.” Carefully he looked at his Uncle. “They offered me a job. Helping them to unpack.” They both knew that was never going to happen.

Gerald looked at Sharon, “Ah hm.” He put on the proffered mask.

“Well. They looked pretty elderly. The son, yeah son?” William nodded yes. “The son helped the father out of the car and when he walked him into the house. So, maybe they do need someone to help out.”

“I don’t think so. The mother. She’s somewhat territorial.”

“Well, William I’m glad your here.”

“Thanks, Aunt Sharon.” She held up one finger smiling. “Thank you, Sharon.”

He finished eating, they cleaned up and drifted around looking out the windows at the snow coming down. Sharon had fetched a mask for William and he put it on. “Thank you.”

Gerald explained. “Everything’s shut down from the snow, not from Covid, well the city’s pretty well shut down from Covid. When they plow the road then I’ll go back into work.” He gave William a chance to explain why he was here. And why he wasn’t with his father.

“We’re getting a divorce.”

“Oh, William.” Sharon ran hand down his arm. William felt guilty, not because he didn’t want the sympathy, but because of covid.

It’s been coming on for some time now. Actually we are divorced.” He sat on the sofa. They followed suit. Gerald chose his comfy chair. William laughed, “I have been so un Covid safe the past twenty four hours. “My mask is still in the car. Everything is still in the car. And the car is in a ditch. Somewhere along the route.”

“Gerald will find it.” Sharon checked with him.

“Yeah. Of course. As soon as this lets up. We’ll get you situated.”

“I know it’s on the far side.”

“Okay, good.” They thought for a while. “Do you have the car keys?”

Sharon laughed watching William. His cheeks rose in a smile. A tiny, “No,” came out.

“No. Do you remember getting out of the car?”

Another tiny, “No.” Out the window he watched Dr. Lecter make his way across the road. He wore black with a thick layer of bright white snow on his hat and shoulders. “Here comes Dr. Lecter.”


	9. Dr. Lecter pays a call.

Sharon started, “Doctor Lecter? I’ll go make tea. Gerald get a towel for him and one for his boots, if he wants.”

“That’s a good idea.” Gerald didn’t have to roll his eyes as he left.

William smiled. This is why he came to visit them. They never judged him, instead accepted whatever was going on in his life, but they weren’t idiots. They always knew. And they were “soft” with each other and amusing in a way neither his wife nor his father had ever been.

He went to the window and made no attempt to hide the fact that he was watching. The neighbor wearing sunglasses, saw William. William slowly brought his right hand up and rested his fingertips on the glass. His left hand stayed in his pants pocket. He dropped his hand and turned to the door and opened it when he heard Lecter stamping the snow off his boots.

“Come in.” William quickly shut the door behind him. Cold air and snow swirled around the room.

Gerald held a towel. “Hello. Welcome.” He pointed to a rack of hooks on the back of the coat closet. “Here. Take your coat off ‘n stay awhile.”

“Thank you.”

William moved back by the window, watching Dr. Lecter tuck his gloves in a pocket, unzip the outer coat and unbutton an inner coat and slip them both off at the same time. He used the towel to dust off the snow.

Hannibal noticed William’s parents were sensible people. They did not hang wet coats in the closet until they were dry. He knocked more snow off his boots, wiped them, hung the towel on one of the coat hooks and noticed the smells of the house. The odors of bacon, oatmeal, coffee and the wife’s perfume mingled with an undercurrent of the soap she used on clothing and cleaning. With his glasses fogging up, Hannibal unobtrusively set them next to a vase of fake flowers along with the family Bible on a side table as he turned to William.

“Hello, Doctor Lecter.”

“Hello, Mr. Graham. How is my patient today?”

William had not told the man his name. That he knew it, seemed a bit ominous. His wallet and phone had been on the floor next to his shoes. Did he leave the car with them? Or did Dr. Lecter enter his car? And snoop in his wallet? Yes, he did. Did he snoop in his phone? Most likely.

“Let me introduce you to Gerald and Sharon Harrison.” They shook hands while saying their hello’s.

Sharon quickly said, “I’m sorry. We’re not supposed to touch. Excuse us.” They both went into the kitchen and washed their hands.

Hannibal calmly glanced around the room. Not his parents. The furnishings had been rearranged for covid, and most were decades old. They upgraded based on need, not want. Sensible. Yet, the curtains were realitively new and why was William here? He was more than a bit different from yesterday, more interesting.

The blank slot in his wallet. This version of William was a police officer who left the force. William was not their son, but they were close, a nephew, maybe? He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Because his are in the car. William was not returning from an errand. He was arriving. He was here because he left Louisiana, not because he had reasons to be here.

He had wanted to assert some dominance over William, calling him my patient, by giving him a nickname, or inviting him over for dinner. That seemed petty, especially after his mother’s clumsy rudeness. Mostly, he wanted to know if William’s hair was as soft today as yesterday.

Gerald followed Sharon, they set up the tea. Hannibal retrieved items from a coat pocket.

“Please have a seat.” Everyone sat around the coffee table. She poured and handed the cups around.

“Thank you. I brought masks as a present, to apologize for my mother’s tactlessness. You are married?” He set four black masks on the table and opened a small metal box. He snapped his hands into a pair of surgical type gloves. A puff of talcum powder floated in front of him for a second.

“I was. We are divorced.”

“Children?”

“No.”

“I’m a surgeon.” Hannibal decided to change fields that very second. “However, I recently decided to take up the study of psychology. I can see you are not suffering from a concussion.” He stood and half kneeled at William’s side. “Well, let me check you.” He placed both hands on William, one on his cheek and the other felt his forehead. “Follow my finger.” William’s eyes easily followed the finger and ended up looking at Hannibal’s. “Let’s take this off.” He cleaned the wound of a small amount of puss with cotton and a small squeeze bottle of alcohol. Then rebandaged it. “You have a slight temperature and need rest.” He smoothly returned to his seat. He tucked the gloves over the old bandage and placed them in the box. He lifted his mask to his mouth and appeared to sip some tea. “This is good tea. Thank you.”

”You’re welcome.”

“My recommendation for you William is chicken soup, take two aspirin and I’ll check on you again tomorrow.” Hannibal stood to leave. He nodded to each of them, “Mr. Graham.”

“Thank you for the home visit, Doctor Lecter.”

“My pleasure.”

Sharon begged him to stay. He continued to close up his coats, “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” He pulled on his hat and gloves. “But, I must be getting back.” He nodded to the three of them, “William.” William joined him as walked out into the snow and shut the door behind him.

Hannibal crunched back to his house. Damn Covid and having to wear gloves. He enjoyed touching Will and missed the tactile feel of his fingers in his hair. Will? He liked the name Will more than William.

The three drank tea and watched Hannibal become a shadow in the still falling snow.

Sharon said, “So, chicken soup for lunch?”

“Thank you Au-Sharon.”

Gerald picked up the masks, “I’m thinking these are N95. These would be good for me to wear at work.”

“You’re still a butcher?”

“Yep. Everything food related is up and running. I suppose I could take the old truck into town. It’ll make it.” Sharon looked at him. “I’ll wait until the snow stops.”  
  


After lunch William laid down thinking over Dr. Lecter’s every word and move. The ‘decided to take up psychology’ was a lie.


	10. Alana and Randall

William’s head throbbed. He took two aspirin. Dourly looking at the bandage he wondered at the extent of his wound. It wasn’t that big of a bandage. He left it alone.

Downstairs, he sat in the living room watching the gloaming sky over the Lecter’s roof and listened dully to Sharon cooking up a storm in the kitchen. It did look gloomy out there. His headache drifted away and his thoughts became clear. Dr. Lecter had given him something. He was sure. Unbuttoning the shirt cuffs and hiking up his sleeves, it wasn’t light enough to see the insides of his elbows. He turned on a lamp. A small needle mark on his right arm betrayed the injection. He buttoned up his shirt musing to himself, who did this Doctor think he is? He’d felt almost no pain yesterday. Maybe the Doctor had given him morphine? He thought over the little he did know of the dynamics of the Lecter family. The strange accents they had. The mother’s was the strongest. Why had they moved here? They came right in front of a storm. What was the draw to this place? Family? Business? He knew they bought the house and didn’t inherit it. Because he knew the previous owners, the Whorley’s and the owners before that, the Tier’s. 

Sharon was on the phone and still cooking when Gerald came up from the basement. He sat in his comfy chair. Gerald had a way of looking at William that made everything better. Impishly he looked sideways at Sharon and back at William. “Your cousin Alana is coming home tomorrow.”

Alana. William held his expression steady. Technically she was a second cousin, as were his Aunt and Uncle. She had kissed him once. It was not at all flirty. That had been his first kiss. Even after all this time his chest felt tight and warm at the memory.

“Something happened. Today. Don’t ask me what.”

“And now she’s coming here?”

His eyebrows jumped, “Yes.” They were both lost in their own thoughts until Gerald jumped up. “I better heat her bedroom.” He went upstairs.

Alana and Randall. William found Randall to be unbelievably strange. He spent more time in the woods, hunting, than anyone. He’d worked his way through college working for a taxidermist. William was relieved when Randall’s family lost the property and it was torn down. There was no reason for him to ever return to the area. And then Alana married him. Why? Why? Because Randall was available? Because she couldn’t have him?

He looked at the house’s lights floating in the darkness. A developer built and sold the Manse to the Whorley’s. Who couldn’t make payments and it went into foreclosure. The building sat empty until the Lecter’s moved in across the road. Should he have considered buying it? Too late for that.

Gerald returned. William grinned, “So. I guess that explains the cooking.”

“Yep.”

“Should we offer to help?”

Gerald grinned back, “Nope.”

“Okay.”

Sharon cooked into the night. William gave her a kiss before he went up to bed. Which meant they touched masks.


	11. Tea time.

In the night the wind abated. Snow fell in big soft wet flakes mounding on every branch and twig. Willam drank coffee in the kitchen while Sharon kept on with her preparations. A little smile played over his face several times as Sharon gave him the news of the day. “The road crew came by at about three this morning. So, Gerald went into work.” She looked out the window. “Looks like it’s filling up again. Isn’t it pretty? Looks like a Christmas card out there. Your cousin Alana, (William couldn’t help but think, second cousin.) had a row with Randall, thank heavens. That man is more animal than human, in my opinion. Anyway. She’ll be here sometime today. Depends on the roads.”

“It will be good to see her again.”

“It has been a while. Hasn’t it? But, not just her.” She paused measuring a liquid.

William braced himself against possibly seeing Randall again. “Randall’s coming?”

“Oh, no. Heavens. She claims, it’s over. Over.” She checked her recipe. “Matthew is coming. With the family. Seems they lost all power. So, they closed up the house and started making their way here. They should be here before nightfall. Hopefully. Depends on the roads.” She paused, spooning something. “We have several cords of wood out back.” She rolled her eyes, “The deadfall that came out of those woods this year. Gerald spent more than a month cutting it and carting it over here.” The oatmeal was ready. She dished them each a bowl. “How will we ever be covid safe?” They were sitting at opposite ends of the kitchen table. He felt guilty for coming here in the first place. He thought he’d be hibernating, studying in the bedroom. A snowblower started up. “Hm.” She left him to his breakfast and thoughts.

Sharon and Alana were close. She must have called Alana when she got his letter. Randall must have learned about it, then they had a fight and now Alana was on her way here. How soon would be telling.

And now Matthew was coming. He and Matthew always got along great. If they were together in the summer, they often spent the day fishing in the flat bottomed boat. If he was visiting during winter break, they ice fished. He was a good fishing partner, idle chatter not being his forte, and always trying to hone his fishing skills. They learned to swim, hunt, fish, and tie lures together. Sometimes they did their homework together. Usually he did homework with Alana and then she kissed him.

Sometimes he wished he could go back to that moment and do things differently. He’d broke it off, or did she, when it started to go too far? After that Matthew always seemed to make sure he and Alana were never alone together. He must have known. Either he saw them or she told him. Either way, Matthew had learned of his coming here, and then of Alana’s breakup with Randall and her decision to come home. So? Covid or no covid, was Matthew using a power outage as an excuse to also be here?

Where was everyone going to sleep? William stopped eating. The house had four bedrooms. When they were children he slept in Matthew’s room. Later they fixed up the guest room for him. All three beds were singles, at least Matthew’s bed still was. He finished his coffee. I’ll probably end up on the couch.

Sharon returned, “It took me a minute, but I’m sure that’s Jeff Macklin clearing off the Lecter’s driveway. That’s a big drive and a whole lot of snow, he’ll be at it a while.”

“It’s still coming down.” He grinned, “He’ll get to do it again, tomorrow.” He yawned. “Gerald still use the blade?”

“Yes, he does.”

William let her eat. When she was done he offered, “Sharon. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Nonsense. The guest room has a Queen. Matthew and his wife can sleep there.” She thought and laughed, “We’ll put the kid on the couch. It’ll build character.” She moved to clear the table and he slid his dishes toward her as far as his arm reached.

He fit his mask over his ears. “You fit a Queen in that room?”

“Oh, right!” She put her mask on. “I know! It is a tight squeeze. There’s the bed, the dresser and nothing else, but the pictures on the walls. And you have to open the door carefully or you’ll knock into the dresser.” She laid out the Sunday tablecloth, candles and a three tiered holder for plates.

“Can I do anything?”

“No, you sit tight.” She placed cookies and tarts onto plates and set them in the rack. “Today we have a great tea.” He loved his Aunt and Uncle. They were so normal.

What she hoped would happen, did happen. Alana arrived, Gerald returned from work and a few minutes later Dr. Lecter dropped by. Sharon happily fed everyone tea, cookies and sweets, cucumber sandwiches and little meat balls dunked in a white sauce using a toothpick. Alana hugged her mom. “You’re so eighties, mom.” They laughed together.

“We’re not supposed to touch each other.” They stepped back. “How are we ever going to do this? I’m glad you’re here, Alana.” Sharon replied looking at her, fondly.

“We need covid tests.”

“All the employees at work are tested every two weeks. So, far Gerald’s tests are negative.”

“Yeah, mom. I think if he was positive we’d all know about it.”

“That’s true.”

Dr. Lecter informed them he and his parents had been tested and they had been given vaccinations. They, because of their age and he because of his medical training. Again the Dr. checked his eyes, his brow for a temperature and changed the bandage. “You look well, William. Well enough to join me for lunch tomorrow?”

“Dr. Lecter, do you always invite your patients to lunch?”

“No, I’m inviting you.” He gazed at Alana, “And your sister. Will you come?”

“Will and I are cousins.” (Second cousins, Will heard in his head.)

“I’m a Graham.” But, Lecter knew that.

“Cousins, then.”

Alana hit him with one of her high beam smiles, that was barely diluted by the mask, “Yes, I will come. What time?”

“One o’clock.”

“Very well, tomorrow at one.”

Dr. Lecter wore a long black dress coat on this visit. He took their leave and thanked Sharon for the “delightful” tea.

Sharon with Gerald, from the other side of the room, said, “That coat doesn’t seem warm enough for this weather.”

Alana finished her cup and studied William, “William. What happened?”

William couldn’t help but wonder if covid was the reason Lecter was changing fields. Then he noticed Dr. Lecter drank his tea this time. He broke off his contemplation of the Doctor, “Pardon?”

Sharon and Gerald listened in. This was the conversation they’d waited for since receiving William’s letter.

“What happened between you and your wife?”

“Nothing. What do you mean?”

“Why are you here? Where’s Charlene?”

“She left me.” Alana stared him down. “While I was a police officer, she was my wife.”

“And then? What? She walked out?”

“Last month I was shot.”

“I heard about that. How are you? Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“And?”

“I decided to use the time off and study for a detective’s badge.”

“William. That’s wonderful.”

He gave her an, “Oh, please” look.

“Isn’t that wonderful?” Alana at a loss looked to the rest of the family.

“She packed her bags and took the car with her. The next time I saw her, she came to work, handed me divorce papers, used our notary and our copier to make copies, gave me a set and left to have lunch with the Chief of Police.” His expression hardened, “I left when I saw the Chief driving my white Impala to work in the morning. It was less than a year old.”

She tried to comfort him, maintaining her distance and wearing a mask. “I’m sorry.”

“I should have known.”

“You couldn’t have.”

Yes. I should. It was all there. From the beginning. Her delight.” Angrily he shook his head and looked at the floor. “I didn’t see any difference between being a officer and a detective.” He looked back at Alana.

“Or an officer and a chief? Maybe it had more to do with the injury and taking time off?”

He grinned ruefully, which didn’t come across with the mask on, “I did turn in my badge.”

The collective groan became laughter.


	12. Dinner at the Lecter’s.

During the night William awoke to the commotion of Matthew and family’s arrival.

The family caravaned to church and sat covid style during the late service. Sharon enjoyed the attention from the rest of the women, being one of the few to have had guests in the past year. She explained social distancing and masks at home. Most were more interested in William’s sudden marital freedom.

Back at home she made two chickens for lunch and started the final bake for three pies she’d made earlier in the week. Alana helped with peeling vegetables while wearing one of her mother’s aprons until it was time to head over to the Lecter’s.

As they entered Dr. Lecter greeted them cordially and explained, “The house is a little cool from a window upstairs and one downstairs being cracked open. Giving us fresh air.” A fire was going in the fireplace. “I’ve set up the table to be covid safe.” The large table had them sitting almost two feet apart from each other. He lifted up the edge of the deep green tablecloth that draped onto the floor. Under the table a metal tray was filled with rounded black rocks. “In ancient times people kept warm by having a warming brazier under the table. If it becomes too warm, tell me and I’ll remove a rock or two for you.” He didn’t mention the radiant heater aimed at much larger rocks stacked on a table, just in front of the open windows, attempted the raise the temperature of the freezing air before it reached them.

Mr. Lecter was at the head of the table with Alana on his right and then Hannibal. On his left was Laura, one of Mrs. Jones’s daughters, then William and at the foot of the table was Mrs. Lecter.

Mr. Lecter began, “Thank you, everyone, for joining us today. This being Valentine’s Day it seemed appropriate to invite neighbors and friends, new people, people we have never met before.” His smile moved around the table.

When it reached Laura, she replied, “Thank you for inviting me.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for braving both this pesky virus and the weather to be here.”Laura’s smile was evident through the mask. He turned to Alana, “Thank you for coming Alana. It is always good to meet your neighbors. Is it true you were raised in the house across the street?”

“Yes.”

“And your brother?”

“My brother? Will is my cousin. Second cousin, actually. I have a brother. His name is Matthew. He’s married. He and his family arrived last night.”

“Hopefully they had a safe trip.”

“They did.”

Mr. Lecter looked at William. “You must be William.”

“I am.”

“Is your family here?”

“I am divorced. I came alone.”

“I am sorry to hear that. Valentine’s Day is a day for love. Do you have any children?”

“No. No children.”

Mr. Lecter turned his attention back to Laura, “This is unbelievably cold weather we’re having. Isn’t it?”

William had wanted to leave the moment Mrs. Lecter asked him, “Are you in the market for a new wife?”

“No.”

She continued to pepper him with questions until William realized she was occupying him, to keep him from the conversations with the rest of the table. No, not the rest of the table, from Laura and Dr. Lecter.

On the way home, William looked up at the Milky Way, “So, what did you think?”

“Within ten minutes I knew we were there to balance the table and to make it appear Laura was not the subject of an inquisition. How about you?”

“So, they were giving Laura an invite with some safety in numbers feeling?”

“Exactly. What about you? Everytime I looked at you, you were talking to Mrs. Lecter.”

“Mrs. Lecter is a great conversationalist. She had to occupy me to give her son a chance to talk to Laura.”

“Why didn’t he sit next to her? Or across from her?”

“I think they are old school. She and her husband have to sit at the ends of the table. Boy, girl, boy, girl. And we’re related so we can’t be next to each other.”

William stayed up. Late. Waiting. Nobody came or went to the Lecter house. Meaning Laura spent the night, as he had thought.


	13. The Caddy.

The next day was spent digging out William’s car. Using a short chain they pulled it out using the old truck. In the end, the bumper in front was twisted so far under, it was undriveable. Gerald dragged the Caddy into the backyard, beside the pole barn.

William laughed, teasing Matthew, “Finally, I don’t have to wear Matthew’s clothes anymore.”

“Ah, you look good in my clothes.”

Alana stared at the car being dragged, “Where did you ever get this car? How old is it?”

Matthew Jr., asked, “What kind is it?”

“It’s a Cadillac. I got it from a used car lot. The pink slip says 1979.”

“Forty one year old car?”

Matthew laughed, “It’s a Caddy. It might be worth a lot.”

“Two hundred dollars.”

“What?”

“Nothing on this car is original, not the engine, not the bumpers. These babies have no chrome. I had to buy new tires and breaks to make it here.”

Matthew didn’t snigger, but he did say when they were alone, “Look at those tail lights. Ain’t they supposed to be pointy?”

They laughed together as they unpacked the trunk. “The name, the emblems were long gone. The seats aren’t even original. I think the seats in the back are from a very small car or truck. They’re not wide enough. What do you expect for two hundred?”

“Maybe he just wanted to get it off the lot.”

“Probably. Too many people see it sitting there for too long.”

“This is all you have? Clothes and books?”

“Here’s my uniforms.” Taking out the plastic bag revealed the rest of his equipment. “Here’s my fishing gear and firearms.”

“You got this car for the trunk. Didn’t you?”

William grinned. “The pistol is in the glove box. The ammo is under the seats.”

A week later in church the Lecter’s attended for the first time. William eyed Alana until she noticed Laura sitting with Mrs. Anderson. By the end of the sermon they both came to the conclusion that whatever it was between Laura and the Doctor, it was over.

On Monday Gerald went to work.

That afternoon William opened the door before two officers reached the porch. The smell of coffee wafted out. “Officers.”

They waited until they were in the porch to reply. “Good morning. Is Mrs. Harrison at home?”

“That bad?” They maintained the face. “Yes, she is. Come inside.”

Sharon took off her apron and handed it to Alana. “I’m Mrs. Harrison.”

She felt feint. Her whole world crashed as she fell to the floor. She came to, in bed. She knew what the officers said. She just couldn’t remember them saying it. She sat up.

Alana came in and set a tray with coffee, tea, a glass of milk and another of water. “I didn’t want to wake you.” They understood each other well enough that they didn’t have to say anything about what they didn’t want to talk about. “Matthew and Will went.” Sharon nodded and laid back down. Alana tried to close the door quietly.


	14. Reactions.

The Harrison family split, like icicles falling from the eves, each split cleanly in a seperate direction.

Alana checked on Sharon, who was sleeping or pretending to be sleeping? Hours seemed to slip by. Alana began making phone calls as she cooked.

Charlene continued to amuse herself with her IPad, reading, looking at pictures and studiously ignored the news. Petrified of catching the virus, she continued to hibernate in the guest room. Wearing her mask even when she was alone or asleep.

Matthew Jr. happily made lures with his Uncle William’s equipment. William had showed him how and promised to take him ice fishing. The current hook, oversized with left over bits of fluffy green yarn, looked vaguely like Shriek. He had never fished before and was surprised when his father said he too knew how to make lures.

Matthew drove William to the hospital and spent the rest of the day at the store. He found the people in meats rattled. They were the ones who found Mr. Harrison ‘asleep’ at his desk. He tried to reassure them, “You did the right thing, calling 911.” And, “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Most nodded and returned to work. He saw they were working on ‘auto pilot’ in their anxiety. After getting himself caught up in the stores business, he issued payroll checks, accounts payables and then spoke to the manager. “Janet. Where is the bookkeeper?”

“Jalen is sick.” They both waited. “He doesn’t have covid. He has a cold and nobody wants to be around anyone with a cold right now.” She shifted her feet.

“What?”

“I am so sorry about your father.”

He looked at her teary eyes. “Thank you.”

“Is the store going to close?”

“What? No. How can it? This is the only place to buy groceries for twenty miles. Thirty five miles. You’re familiar with the people on meats.”

“Yes.”

“Give me your recommendations, who you think should be the manager.”

“Okay.” Working the problem her face cleared.

“Think it over and tell me tomorrow.”

“Lauren is helping with the books, she’ll be in tomorrow, She always works early. She starts at six. She has kids.”

“Thank you.”

One of the customers who listened in on the employee’s conversations, was Dr. Lecter.

Hannibal in buying the house had learned from the realtor that he and the Harrison’s were the only ones living on the street and that the street continued over and around the hills to the next town, a good thirty miles away. So, he should expect very little traffic.

He’d assumed Mr. Graham, ex police officer from Louisiana, of being lost or foolishly taking the short cut, through heavy snow to the next town. He’d heard the truck start up at the Harrison’s, when Graham said family was coming for him. He’d escorted him to the vehicle, just to see the looks of the neighbor. And he used his patient, shamelessly, as an excuse to get the lay of the land. He also used William and Alana as ballast at his mother’s luncheon, since the Jones’s readily agreed to the invite at learning others would be present. His mother was forcing the matter of his being married prior to his father’s death.

He stared at the capers, listening in on the employees of “Harrison’s”, the town’s only grocery store and learned the “old man” had died. The “old man” Gerald, his neighbor and the owner of the store died that very day. What surprised Hannibal, Gerald owned most of the land surrounding the town. Meaning his new house stood on land that at one time was owned by the Harrison’s. The poor farmer across the street, was anything, but a farmer or poor, regardless of how old his house appeared. Hannibal moved and stared down the olives.

Hannibal had written off Mr. Graham as a poor relation, visiting because he lost his job. His mother came to the conclusion he was an idiot. Hannibal found the change in Graham’s reputation among the employees, interesting. They thought he was smart and they were a little wary of him. They liked him better than Matthew. They also knew he was now single. A couple of the women sighed, knowing he’d never notice them. Then he noticed a couple of men sharing a “look” with each other. He’d reached the pickles and absently added a jar to his basket. He wandered to the liquor department and overheard, “.. he’s probably at the hospital.”

He paid for two bottles of wine and the unwanted vegetables, then headed for the hospital.

He’d already helped in surgery. The receptionist recognized him and greeted him, “Hello, Doctor Lecter.” Before he responded Mr. Graham exited a door. “Hello, Mr. Graham.” Graham stopped. Hannibal watched the hospital employees. It was true. They all knew him, didn’t speak to him, and were “careful” around him.

He tried again, “Hello, Will.”

“Hello, Dr. Lecter.” He looked past Hannibal out the window. “I need a ride.”

“I’ll take you, wherever you want to go.”

Mr. Graham fixed his gaze on Hannibal for the first time. “You had a reason for coming here, didn’t you, Doctor Lecter?”

“I did.” They studied each other. William left the building. Hannibal walked slightly behind him. They drove without speaking. William pointed to the turns. Hannibal parked in a Mortuary’s lot. Will left the car still not speaking. Hannibal followed him inside.

They sat on chairs set some distance from each other and across from the funeral director. Hannibal wasn’t surprised he knew Mr. Graham. “Cremation.” Seemed to be the only bit of information the director needed. Will picked out a particularly expensive urn for the family crypt.

Hannibal drove to the florist at the edge of town. It was busy enough to have a line. They waited outside, exhaling foggy breaths, separated by yellow tape on the pavement. Several people noticing Graham, appeared to give up and left. The twenty minute wait became less than five minutes. They entered and William began, “My..Uncle passed away. There will not be a funeral. I want to give my Aunt Sharon flowers.” He looked at her, blankly.

Hannibal thought William was oblivious to the two employees working furiously in the back room, that one looked at him and quickly went into an inner office.

“We’ll deliver them to her home. Sharon Harrison.” She typed into a computer and found the Harrison’s address. She set up an invoice.

“Right. And the store, they need a big bunch of flowers.”

“We can do that. What price range were you thinking?”

He looked blank, again. “What do you have?”

The owner of the store, Truck, came out. He and Mr. Graham looked at each other. Suddenly, Hannibal was riveted. These two knew each other. Truck was saying sorry and Will was saying, not to worry?

The girl at the counter continued, “We have these you can choose from.”

William looked down at the counter where a notebook lay open.

“Thanks, Holly.” Holly looked around at Truck, nodded to Graham and Dr. Lecter and went in the back. “I’m sorry. Will. Will you be staying?”

“Gerald’s brother is coming. Him and his son and his family.”

“Do you mind if I tell..others?”

William shook his head.

He whipped out his phone, “Hey, this is Truck. Graham says Gerald’s brother is moving home. And his son.” An impatient pause, “He says it’s okay. Later.” He put the phone away.

Will looked down. “For your Aunt?” He nodded again. “This one for her dinning table and this one for her bedroom dresser.” William nodded.

Truck turned to a second section, “These are more of what you might want at the store.” He flipped pages and stopped at a funeral or display type of arrangement, “We’ll add a ribbon. In memory. Maybe.”

“With the ribbon.”

The owner tucked his head around the door frame, “Start Graham’s flowers next.” He came back and typed, “You’re paying?” He met his friends eyes and waited, “I’ll give you fifteen percent off.”

“No. Don’t.” William took out his wallet and counted out twenties. “How much?”

The owner swiveled the screen and pointed, “This is the total.”

Will paused. “The vase for her dresser, send a new one each week. For a month.”

Truck typed. “This is the new total.” William paid and waited for his change. Hannibal took a step closer. “This is my neighbor, Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He and his parents live across the road.”

The change in the owner’s visage was startling to Hannibal. He was a customer. “Dr. Lecter.” He set up an account and typed in his address. “What can I do for you?”

“Please send a presentation bouquet to Miss. Laura Jones. A dozen pink roses.”

“Jones’es daughter?”

Graham’s eyes smiled for the first time, “Yes.” Truck typed in the address.

“And a tall arrangement for Mrs. Gerald Harrison. Please use a vase that matches Mr. Graham’s.” The owner flipped pages. Hannibal chose one. “This one for Mrs. Harrison, please.”

Truck pointed to a rack, “And the cards?” He and Will watched each other as Hannibal signed two. “This will be the total with taxes and delivery.” Hannibal paid. William was already heading for the door. “Thank you, Will.”

Will stopped and looked over his shoulder, “Truck.”

Truck greeted the next customer while keeping a close eye on Will. He clipped the cards with Hannibal’s name in a strange looking script to a clipboard. Holly took over when he returned to the back.

Hannibal drove and noticed the line outside “Pegasus Flowers” was quite long. Longer than before they had arrived and quite a few were using their phones. “Anywhere else?”

“No.”

He drove and noticed a marked change in the city. A man, driving, who was happy, and everywhere people were on their phones, talking or texting. And a woman was happy enough to almost be skipping into a building, saw Graham and waved to him.

They reached the outskirts of the city and turned up Forrest Lane. “Anyone in this town that doesn’t know you?”

Graham laughed. “Forrest Lane used to be a dirt road. It used to be their drive way.” Hannibal pulled up in front of the Harrison’s house. Will got out without saying thanks. Hannibal drove into his own garage. Thinking.

Hannibal wondered how far back Graham and Truck went? Truck sounded like a childhood nickname, not short for something else. He decided they were childhood friends. That Truck wanted to give him a discount and Graham declined it spoke of something. What? That Graham had money? That Graham was about to inherit? That Harrison’s would reemburse Graham and they had the money?

And what was that smile for about Jones’s daughter. We’re they laughing at him? No, he didn’t think so. The Jones family was as determined to get ahead by marriage as his mother was to see him married. The Jones family had most likely made a play for William Graham.

For a small town there seemed to be a lot of intrigue. Again he wondered why had his mother chosen this town in the first place?


	15. Mr. and Mrs. Lecter

Like an avalanche the disastrous day began slowly, picked up speed, and ended in silence.

While Hannibal dressed he remembered long, soft locks and envisioned the man across the street sans clothing. Helping his father up and assisting with his dressing, he remembered lifting and carrying the limp man out of the snowy wreckage. Making coffee for himself and his parents, he remembered the meal Will had attended. He tried not to be angry with his mother, at her decision to monopolize Will during the meal and to insist he speak with Miss. Laura Jones. What a wasted opportunity! All his previous conversations with the man had been with his own family or Will’s family attentively listening. Or he was mentally out to lunch.

His thoughts turned to the road trip with Will, when his mother entered the room and dramatically placed a ring box in front of him. She drank her black coffee waiting for her son to open the box and looked at her husband, as if to say, we won.

Hannibal drank his coffee. Slowly. But, not too slowly, they had to get to church on time. Actually, a little early.

His mother’s “management” began at Misha’s death and her husband’s illness added to her zeal. The last decade had been spent enticing him with women from all over Europe. Hard to entice someone when they loved their freedom, and didn’t want a replacement.

He picked up the box. His mother wanted him married. Now. Today if she could get it. He opened the box. A pink Diamond nestled in clear diamonds and little green leaves, most likely Jade. Fairly large, the pink stone was between two and three carats. It explained his mother “suggesting”, in reality demanding, he send pink roses. She stood. It was time to leave. He helped them with their coats and brought the car around.

His second mistake was not checking the weather. The cold spell with it’s snow didn’t seem like it was going to let up any time before April. It did. Water dripped everywhere creating a light misting. The ground was sodden as after a three day spring rain.

They arrived at church early enough to sit next to the Jones family. Not wanting to be obvious it took him until the second song to find Will. He used the time during the sermon to think over the road trip with Will. Will gave away nothing about himself. The closest he came to sharing was the tidbit about Forest Lane originally being the Harrison’s driveway. There was nothing there, between them. The man used him as a chauffeur. Why not kill him? Killing him seemed like fun.

In fact, Will seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts the entire trip. Not blatantly ignoring him, but his attention was elsewhere. Hannibal stood to sing another song. He was starting to sweat from the heavy winter coat he was wearing. Another mistake. The service over he turned to Mr. Jones. “Might I have a short stroll among the trees with your daughter?”

Mr. Jones eyebrows shot up. “Yes. We’ll wait for her.”

“I intend to ask her to marry me, with your permission.”

Those eyebrows couldn’t get any higher, so his eyeslashes did their best to fill in the gap. “Yes. Of course.” He stammered. Hannibal gave him a curt nod and helped his father out of the church. Mrs. Lecter walked her husband to the car. Hannibal found Laura waiting for him. She smiled, but her body language seemed off. “Good morning, Laura. Will you join me? For a walk among the trees?”

“Yes, Dr. Lecter.”

They walked until Hannibal found a dry spot in the sun, to best show off the pink stone in the sunlight. He went down on one knee. “Miss. Laura.” He opened the box. “This pink Diamond while flawless and rare does not begin to compare with your beauty. I never believed, hoped, I might find a woman to revere as I do you. Please let me be your husband. Please marry me.” She was still giving off the wrong vibes.

“Please stand. Dr. Lecter. Is it true you’ve been married before?” She stood straighter and looked defiant.

“It is true.” Another mistake. He was approaching her too soon, too quickly. He slipped the box into a pocket. “Misha passed away during childbirth. Her son, my son, our son, died the next day.” He looked at the ground, pained at the memory. “Please, marry me.”

She stopped and faced him. Then surprised him by taking his hands in hers. It should be the other way around. He should hold her hands. Suddenly he was angry and thought of strangling her. “I intend to marry and have children. I can not marry someone who I believe will wait, maybe until after we’ve had children, tell me it’s over, because they love another.”

“Why do you believe me to be so heartless?”

“I believe you love another.”

“There is no other. Who gave you this idea?”

“Dr. Lecter.”

“There is no one that compares to you.” She faintly smiled. “There was a moments hesitation when we first met. Some confusion over your age. We were told you were fourteen. Not so. Your sister Laurie is fourteen.”

“That little mix up has been cleared to everyone’s satisfaction. I am referring to Mr.” Hannibal was ready to kill anyone who stood between his marrying Laura. “William.” No. “Graham.”

He did his best stammer, “A, a, a man?”

“My cousin is the receptionist at the hospital and my grandmother recently bought flowers at Pegasus. Dr. Lecter thank you for the pleasant walk. Excuse me.” He ceremoniously bowed. She nodded and returned to her family.

Driving home, instead of answering his mother, he set the box on the seat between them. She opened it, huffed in disgust and placed it in her purse, as if it was a cheap replica. Over the rest of the day she planned and schemed.

Hannibal served lunch. Afterwards he helped his father up the stairs and onto the bed. He gently covered him with a throw. His voice raspy with age and exhaustion he whispered, “Tell me, Hannibal, what did she say.”

“I thought her family knew of my first marriage.” He brought the chair over and sat. “Apparently she didn’t believe the story of Misha’s death.”

“There must be more.” The ‘there’ wasn’t vocalized.

“She’s afraid that after we marry and have a child, I will abandon her for another.” His father’s eyebrow raised in disbelief. “In particular the man across the street. William Graham.” The eyebrows moved into a frown.

Out creaked the word, “Money.” Hannibal smiled. “Contract.”

Hannibal thought it over and kissed his cheek, “Thank you, father.”   


In front of his mother he phoned Pegasus. The shop was closed on Sunday’s or it closed early? He left a message for a vase of two dozen pink roses to be sent to Miss. Laura Jones, with a card to say, I Love You, Hannibal. He disconnected.

”Hannibal. Send her flowers every day. Until I tell you to stop.”

Seven hours later Mrs. Lecter checked on her husband and returned to Hannibal. “Mr. Lecter will not be joining us for dinner.”

At ten in the evening she prepared for bed and kissed her husband good night. He was as cold as ice. She felt his neck, gave up and called from the hallway for Hannibal. He confirmed, “Mr. Lecter has passed away.” He made a phone call. He carefully did not smile. So, much easier if he disposed of the body himself.


	16. Sharon recovers from mourning.

Sharon joined her grandson and William in the kitchen. Her eyes blinked open at seeing them wearing masks. In her grief, she’d forgotten covid for a while. “Good morning, William. Matt.” 

“Good morning, Sharon.”

“Good morning, Grandma.”

The aroma of coffee permeated the air. William rose from explaining the wrist action of fly fishing to Matt and fixed her a cup of coffee. He waited for her to continue, when she did not, he explained. “Now that the weather is warmer we intend to practice fly fishing out back.”

She looked at the array of fluffy flies. “You’ve been busy tying flies. They are all so beautiful.” She beamed at Matty.

“We went ice fishing almost every day.” Matty shook his head, “We didn’t catch anything.”

“We caught a few.” Will cut a slice of coffee cake and set in front of her.

“But, they were too small to keep.”

“Ah.” She said, reveling in the sight of her grandson.

Matty started a new hook.

Sharon picked up her cup with two hands and held it suspended in front of her.The same way her unspoken thoughts hung suspended. Eventually, she earnestly asked William, “You saw him?”

“I did.”

“How did he look?”

He smiled, trying to reassure her and lowered his mask and held his breath. When she returned his smile he raised his mask. “He looked like he decided to take a nap. As if, if he was shook he might wake up.” He took the cup from her and set it down. He moved back to his chair. How long before they no longer had to social distance from family? She was too young and healthy for the vaccine. They all were. “Matty?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s move this equipment into the living room.”

“Okay.” He happily nodded and began moving the trays.

Will helped him and returned to Sharon. She was looking at the wall and not seeing it.

She shook her head, and began to reminisce. “You are just like Grandma. She had that talent. She always knew what was going on. What happened. Without anyone telling her. As a child I learned to be truthful with her. Do what she says.” She drank her coffee watching William closely. “She’s the one that told me I had to marry someone from outside. Outside Louisiana. We took a trip. My mom and dad and my brother. My two sisters stayed home. We drove and drove. We assumed the road went thru to the other side and it didn’t. But there was a grocers, Harrison’s Groceries and a small place to stay.” She smiled at the memory. “We bumped right into each other. I was trying to go back to the inn and he was, I think, going to work. I dropped everything.” She smiled a real smile. “I didn’t even look down. I don’t think he did either. We just stood there like two idiots looking at each other. Wow, did I love him.”

“I’m sorry, they won’t allow funerals.”

She steadily looked down at her plate; mashing the edge of the cake. “You’re different. Everytime you visit us. You are.” She ate the bit of cake that clung to the tines of her fork. “Yes, everytime. Gerald used to say, “Who do you think is coming this time?” Contemplating him she drained her cup in small sips. “Do you remember the first time?”

“When we went ice fishing?”

“No. Before that.” He poured her another coffee and passed the cream. “You were three.” He gave a small shake of his head, no. “Your parents were, arguing. They drove all the way up here to drop you off, so they could fight in peace.” She smiled ruefully. “You were asleep. You woke up and cried until they returned. A couple of days later. I think you dropped weight.”

Alana entered the room carrying a load of folded laundry. “Hi, mom. I’m glad you’re up. How are you?”

“I’m good. Thank you.”

Alana walked the laundry into the living room and returned. “Let me get you something to eat. Here’s a mask.”

“Thank you. William fed me.”

“Cake is not food.”

“I’m fine. We’re having a little chat.”

“Okay. I’m going to clean your room.” Alana left.

Sharon collected her thoughts. “He bought me more food to replace the one’s I’d dropped. I dropped six eggs and he bought a dozen. I didn’t like the look of their shrimp.” She smiled. “He walked me back to our room and walked right in with me. I made breakfast and he said to my father, “Sir, I hope with your permission, I intend to some day marry your daughter.” I know my daddy was shocked, but not momma. My brother laughed. Daddy asked him to tell us a bit about yourself, young man. Gerald was being trained to be a butcher and his grandfather owned Harrison’s. After we married we learned of the family owning the meat packing business. That was where the real money was. The store was so they had a place to buy sugar and flour.”

“We were, we intended to leave. We stayed the rest of the two weeks and a month later he showed up.” She paused waiting for the sad feeling to pass. Will reached a hand across the table. She did the same. Too far away to touch. But, a better feeling hung between them.

“I adopted everything the women did in his family. The way they spoke, dressed. The food I cooked. Everything except grits. And over time Gerald grew to like my grits.” Her eyes teared up. “To the point of missing them, when I didn’t make them.” He got her a tissue and left the box near her.

Sharon fidgeted. “That was why I always dressed you in Harrison clothes when you visited. So you’d know there is a different life out there than just on the bayou. Tell me what happened.”

“She left me. That’s all. No fight. No arguing.” He looked out the window and back to her. “I was shot. I don’t want to have that happen again. So, I came here to study, get my detective’s badge. Go to work. Solve crimes.”

Sharon studied him. “Think higher up.” He raised his eyebrows. “You’re too smart for a local police department, William. William. That’s why I always called you William. Your mother called you Billy. Later, when you were older, your parents called you Bill. You’re not a Bill.”

No. He really wasn’t a Billy, Bill or Baby Boy, or Boy. He liked it when Alana him, Will. “I prefer Will.”

“Will. You are a Will and you need to move up and move out. Find something, a job at the state level or national.”

“National.” Several minutes passed. “The FBI.”

“And do not allow any more groupies into your life. No more women who think you’re handsome. Find someone who wants to be with you, for you. Somebody who’s as interested in you as you are in them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Alana breezed thru the room.

Will fetched their jackets, “Let’s go, Matty.”


	17. Hannibal’s proposal.

Hannibal spent the morning in deep discussions with his mother. They went together to the mortuary. Shipping a body home was next to impossible even without the covid restrictions. Mr. Lecter was to be cremated. His mother picked out an urn. She also picked out flowers for the living room and a special bouquet for Mrs. Jones. They would arrive the next day.

Later in the day Hannibal moved a chair in his bedroom that he might look out the window at Will’s house and was surprised when Will and the child appeared from behind the house. They began waving a fishing rod with their right hand while holding the left in a swooping manner out to their side. Will was teaching the child fly fishing. As they finished, Will slowly turned. He appeared to be looking directly at Hannibal. 

Hannibal began a search. The child must be Matthew Jr. and he posted pictures of his hand tied flies. Hannibal had a few tenuous ideas forming about Mr. Graham. One was to seriously study psychology. Another was to learn to tie a fly. 

Hannibal wore black, in mourning, when he visited the Jones family. The sun was setting as Mr. Jones came out to greet him.

“Dr. Lecter.” The two men stayed about 6 feet from each other. They both wore masks. Hannibal’s was a custom black mask, while Mr. Jones wore the hospital type.

“Mr. Jones. I trust you and your family are well?”

“Yes, that we are. Thank you for asking. And how is your family?”

“I completely forgot to thank you for attending my family’s church service last Sunday. I had hoped to return the favor and attend your church this coming Sunday, however we had a death in the family.”

“My condolences. Hopefully not someone close to you.”

“My father. I had hoped to give these roses, they are David Austin roses, to your daughter.” He held a white vase of two dozen almost white, pink roses.

“I’m sorry. She says she doesn’t wish to speak to you.”

“I hope she changes her mind. I have a slightly different proposal, if she is willing to give me a mere five minutes. After I will no longer intrude on your family.”

“Well. I’ll ask.” He returned inside. Hannibal did not fidget as he waited. He bowed formally when Laura came out to him.

“My dearest Laura. You and Mr. Graham have sat beside each other at my table. How anyone might think there is any love between us, is beyond me. Matthew, Mr. Graham’s cousin abandoned him at the hospital, then went to their store. While I was there, I learned of Mr. Gerald Harrison’s passing. I tried to be a good neighbor to the Harrison’s, by chauffeuring Mr. Graham, to the mortuary and to purchase flowers. I too, ordered flowers. For you. Did you not receive the flowers with a card, bearing my signature?”

“Yes. I did.” 

“My proposal is this. May I fly your entire family, or if not, than you and a chaperone, to my family’s home in Lithuania? And when and if you have no doubts we’ll fly to Florence, by private plane of course, to the Cathedral of [Saint Mary of the Flower](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blessed_Virgin_Mary_\(Roman_Catholic\)). Many know it as Duomo de Firenze, which means the Church of Florence. The Roman Catholic Church of Florence. And there I hope we will be wed. Before you answer know this.” He paused. “Your worries about my fidelity I find cannot be assuaged in any other manner except by a contract. A wedding contract, if you will. At the time of our marriage, if we should ever divorce, God forbid, for any reason, I will sign over to you an income of one million each year.”

“I would that these flowers were called Laura, however David Austin named them Miranda.” Laura looked at the pale buds glowing in the last moments before the sun slipped under the horizon. “As they open over a hundred petals will be revealed. The Austin family grow and breed roses. While he passed away a couple of years ago, the beauty of these flowers will continue on, forever.” He gazed into her eyes, meaningfully.

He held out the flowers and she took them. “They’re beautiful and smell nice. Thank you.”

“Miss. Laura. Sadly my father passed away. My mother and I will return his ashes to our home in Lithuania. It is my hope you and your family or you and your chaperone will travel with us.” He bowed formally and returned to his vehicle.

She watched Hannibal as he drove away.


	18. Florence

Mrs. Lecter was quite prepared to wear black for the rest of her life. What she wasn’t prepared for was her own death without the next generation walking and talking in the family’s castle in Lithuania. She did not rant or rave or carry on in any manner. Her son knew how displeased she was without any pouting or theatrics. She simply fixed her eye on him.

Upstairs Hannibal did his own planning while gazing at the Harrison house, hopeful to see Will again. He was curious about Mr. William Graham. He found himself wanting to spend time with the man and learn what it would take to push him over the edge. Spending time with Will was never going to happen in this place under these circumstances. How might he engineer a place, a job where they might intersect? Someday the man will be a detective. He enjoyed complicated solutions.

Hannibal’s mother relaxed when Laura, wearing the pink diamond ring, agreed to travel to Lithuania. Hannibal suggested Laura’s chaperone be a strong male. To both carry her luggage and protect her from any physical harm. She had an older distant cousin named John. Hannibal assured everyone he was perfect. The trip had several steps there being no airport near Lecter Castle.

Hannibal made sure John handled the luggage at each juncture. After they arrived it was a simple matter of allowing his guests to have the run of the castle. He made several trips into town with is mother. When Laura was completely comfortable with the routine of the estate, she became quite bored. Hannibal, Laura and the Chaperone began a slow trip across Europe. They stopped in every village they came to, often staying the night. Months later they arrived in Florence, and Laura was showing. Hannibal sent her home, married to John. He did not inform his mother while he continued to stay on in Florence and studied Psychology: or the gentle art of manipulating people.


End file.
